


Together We Conquer

by lutes_and_dandelions



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Depression Related Impotence, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Healing, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Partial Recovery, References to Depression, Sexual Content, Whump, depressed character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:08:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26516467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lutes_and_dandelions/pseuds/lutes_and_dandelions
Summary: Scarred for life by his child surprise, Eskel spirals into a dark, empty place. Feeling helpless in the face of his partners apathy, Geralt still tries his best to help Eskel back to himself.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Comments: 21
Kudos: 75





	Together We Conquer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GoldenDaydreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenDaydreams/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Goldie! I hope it's been fabulous! <3
> 
> Please head to tags, my lovelies, so you know what you're signing up for. I will say that Eskel does nothing overt to hurt himself, it is all implied as the story is from Geralt's POV but he really isn't in a good place during the first half of this story. However I promise there is lots of lovely comfort in the second half to make up for it! <3

There was a flurry of swords and before Geralt knew what was happening, Eskel was on the ground, clutching at his face. The cry that tore from Eskel’s lips cut through Geralt’s chest like he was the one who had been struck. Blood welled through Eskel’s fingers, so vibrantly red it looked fake. 

Shouting sounded around him, but Geralt wasn’t paying attention, his entire focus was on Eskel. He fell to his knees next to his lover’s side, hand joining Eskel’s putting pressure on the wounds. “It’s going to be alright,” he choked out, not really believing it, there was so much blood.

“I love you,” Eskel whispered, although it was clear the words pained him immeasurably. 

“I love you too,” Geralt returned, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Eskel’s forehead, not caring about the way Eskel’s blood smeared onto his lips. There was so much blood, a torrent, Geralt didn’t know what to do. He was floundering in the face of the severity of Eskel’s injury, the way his skin felt strangely _loose_ under their hands.

“We could cauterise it with an igni?” Lambert suggested. It would mean dreadful pain for Eskel, would mean he’d have to deal with burns as well as the wounds he’d already suffered but at least then he’d be alive. 

“Move your hands,” Sabrina said, dropping to her knees on Eskel’s other side. “I can help.” 

Geralt eyed her warily, not trusting her in the slightest but Eskel was quickly bleeding to death and surely whatever the sorceress could do would be better than burning Eskel to stop the blood flow. Threading his fingers through Eskel’s, Geralt removed their hands. 

Sabrina placed her own over Eskel’s face and began to chant. Light emanated from her palms. Eskel screamed in pain, the sound of it making Geralt’s chest ache. He began to writhe and Geralt pressed down on his chest to hold him in place. Lambert appeared at Eskel’s feet, holding down his legs. With another gut wrenching cry, Eskel’s eyes rolled back into his head and he fell still and silent. Geralt stared at his chest, but the sight of it slowly rising and falling did nothing to relieve the knot of anxiety curling in his stomach.

-oOo-

Eskel was asleep in their bed, wearing just his smalls, laid out on his back and covered up to his shoulders. Geralt sat next to him, leaning back against the headboard, carding gentle fingers through his black hair while he waited for Eskel to wake up. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop looking at Eskel’s face. He’d let Deidre live, although he kept going back and forth on his decision. Had he done the right thing? She’d reminded him so much of Renfri, Geralt had found himself unable to be as impartial as he’d have liked. At any rate, it was too late, after seeing too Eskel, Sabrina portaled Deidre and her brother back to Ard Carraigh.

Geralt closed his eyes and pinched himself before opening them again. Eskel’s new scars were still there, just as livid and gut-wrenching. He’d been so roguishly handsome, the black hair, his strong jaw and full lips, combined with the sheer breadth and height of him, woman and man alike had always thrown themselves at him with abandon. Eskel was the ‘handsome one’, Geralt had always been the freak. So much of Eskel’s self-worth was rooted in his looks and how people reacted to him, Geralt was worried how he was going to feel now that had been taken away.

Of course Geralt still found him desperately handsome, despite how hard the scars were to look at, he’d get used to them. They were part of Eskel now and Geralt loved every part of him, scars included. He just hoped that would be enough. 

Leaving Eskel’s hair behind, he ever so gently ran the tips of his fingers over the vivid pink lines. They started in his hairline, one above his right eyebrow, one at his temple, as two thick lines, cutting through his high and cheekbone. One of them branched into two, so three lines snaked down his cheek before finally becoming four as they cut across his lips and jaw. They had made the right corner of Eskel’s top lip unnaturally jagged, Geralt could see his teeth. Sabrina had assured them he’d still be able to see, which was the important thing. A witcher blind in one eye was a dead witcher. Still, repairing his eye had meant worse scarring and Geralt isn’t sure which Eskel would have preferred.

-oOo-

Two days after the run in with Diedre’s sword, Eskel began to stir. It was early, Geralt was lightly dozing, unable to properly sleep since the incident. At the change in Eskel’s breathing, Geralt was fully alert. Through the moonlight streaming in through the window Geralt watched Eskel frown, eyes still closed. The scarred side of his face moved oddly, the expression on the right side of Eskel’s face no longer matched the led, and the muscles around his eyebrow were not responding at all. The blade had sheared through the muscle, tendons and nerves like a hot knife through butter, so it wasn’t surprising, but that didn’t make it any easier to see.

“You with me?” Geralt whispered, going up on one elbow and reaching across the space between them to place a hand on Eskel’s chest. 

Eskel’s eyes fluttered open, landing on Geralt, the frown deepened on one side of his face, on the other, the change made the corner of his mouth tug into a grimace while his brow remained relaxed. “My face feels...strange,” he croaked. 

His hand appeared from under the covers, and Geralt fought the urge to stop him from touching them. There was no risk of reopening them, Geralt just wanted to give Eskel another few moments of not knowing, allow him to have another few moments of freedom to think nothing had changed. His fingers twitched but he didn’t grab Eskel’s wrist, no matter how much he wanted too. 

As soon as Eskel’s fingers touched the thickened scar tissue, he gasped. Traced the lines with fingers, they began to quiver and then shake. As he touched the gap in his lip a pained moan slipped free from his throat. 

“Diedre had cut through your eye, but to heal that Sabrina could only do so much with the rest of the injury,” he paused, licking his lips. “Eskel, I’m sorry.” 

Eskel’s breaths came faster and faster, he choked back moans as he continued to frantically touch his face. The sight of Eskel’s distress caused tears to prick at Gearlt’s own eyes. He forced them back, feeling like he had no right to be upset, he wasn’t the one who’d had their face irreparably damaged. Eskel needed him to be strong.

“Will it...get better at least?” Eskel groaned, something sickenly desperate in his eyes. 

Geralt didn’t know what to say, but his silence was answer enough. Throwing himself from the bed, Eskel stumbled towards the bedroom door, heedless of the cold. 

“Where are you going?” Geralt asked, following behind him.

“I have to see,” Eskel gritted out. 

Geralt immediately understood their destination. Even when the castle was the bustling home of hundreds, it had never contained many mirrors. Now only one hung in the keep, above the fireplace in the library, set in an ornate frame, dirty and tarnished from years of neglect. 

Eskel skittered to a stop in front of it, Geralt behind him, watching Eskel’s reflection. 

“Oh,” Eskel breathed, eyes frantically searching his own face. He swallowed audibly, raised a shaking hand to touch his reflection while he tried to force the scars in different expressions. “ _Oh_.” 

Geralt’s entire being tensed as he waited for Eskel to do _something_.

“Well this is just-” A sob wracked Eskel’s large chest. Geralt reached out for him but Eskel side stepped his touch. “I know we’re supposed to expect scars, we’re _witchers_ , but this is- it’s just-” But whatever it was Eskel couldn’t verbalise it. 

He took a step back, away from the mirror, then another, heading towards the low table and couches that sat in front of the fireplace. Geralt watched him warily, still waiting. The backs of Eskel’s knees hit the low table and before Geralt even had a chance to take a step forward, Eskel had turned, grabbed the table and launched it across the room with an angry bellow. 

Within the next second he’d flipped a couch. Geralt grabbed him before he could reach for another, wrapping his arms tightly around Eskel’s chest, pinning his arms to his sides. Eskel struggled, wordlessly shouting his rage. He purposely tripped Geralt, taking them to the ground. Geralt’s grip loosened just a fraction as they fell to the floor, landing where the table had just sat and Eskel pressed his advantage, freeing himself with a snarl and pushing himself back and away.

Fearful of what Eskel would do next, Geralt launched himself after him, tackling him around the waist, taking him back to the floor. Quickly pinning him in side mount, chest to chest but at a right angle to Eskel’s body, Geralt slipped an arm under Eskel’s neck and forced his shoulder into Eskel’s jaw, exerting all of the pressure he could. Using his free arm and his knees, Geralt trapped Eskel’s arm. Growling low in his throat, Eskel tried to escape but Geralt held on as if his life depended on it. 

The sound of approaching footsteps met Geralt’s ears, he wasn’t surprised Eskel’s release of temper hadn’t gone unnoticed. 

“It’s alright,” Geralt said, both to Eskel and to whomever was outside the door, he didn’t want them to come in, Eskel wouldn’t want anyone to see him in such a state. The footsteps stopped, no one came in but they didn’t retreat. 

“It’s alright, Eskel,” Geralt murmured, even as Eskel continued to fight against his hold. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to get through this.” Eskel’s attempts to free himself became frenzied. “I know it’ll be a lot to get used too but you’re alive, that’s what counts,” Geralt continued. “Sabrina stopped you from bleeding to death.”

“I wish I had,” Eskel roared. 

The words almost made Geralt let go, he wanted so badly to look at Eskel’s face. “You don’t mean that,” Geralt said, trying to hide the pain in his voice. 

The idea of losing Eskel was too much for Geralt to think about. they’d been together for long, first as friends and then as lovers. “You can not mean that,” he repeated, voice cracking as a few of the tears he’d been fighting since Eskel woke up finally leaked free. “Eskel, stop it!” he snapped. “Stop fighting me!”

For one wild second, Geralt thought Eskel was going to refuse, but he stilled, chest heaving beneath Geralt. Hoping Eskel wasn’t feinting, Geralt slowly released the pressure on Eskel’s jaw and shimmied around so they were side by side. Before Geralt could get a good look at Eskel’s face, he’d already turned into Geralt, pushing him onto his back and hiding his face in Geralt’s neck as he clutched at Geralt’s chest and tangled their legs together.

“I’m sorry,” Eskel whispered, as his shoulders began to shake, warm tears wetting Geralt’s skin. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” 

“Good,” Geralt sighed, “that’s...good.” With one hand he carded his fingers through Eskel’s hair, with the other he rubbed slow circles up and down Eskel’s back and held him while he cried. He’d never seen Eskel so upset, it was disconcerting and tugged terribly at Geralt’s chest but he didn’t allow himself to release the sorrow he was feeling.

Outside the room, whoever had been listening, waiting, quietly padded away.

-oOo-

The missing part of Eskel’s lip was proving an issue. Everytime Eskel drank, he couldn’t seem to stop the fluid from leaking out and down his chin. Geralt could see him growing steadily more frustrated as the days went on, with every failed attempt.

It was a relief when Eskel discovered that tipping his head right back and drinking from the left side of his mouth stopped it from happening, although it was clear Eskel hating having to do it. Hated having to break eye contact to take a drink. Hated the way the scar felt when he licked his lips. Hated the way it looked when he smiled. 

Winter began to descend, and Geralt found himself missing Eskel’s smile a little more every day.

-oOo-

Geralt was already in bed, half asleep, when Eskel finally joined him. He’d been coming to bed later and later each night, but when Geralt asked what he’d been doing, he’d just shrug. Always quick to anger since the injury, Geralt hadn’t pushed the issue despite wanting too. Not because he cared over much what Eskel was doing, he just wanted to make sure he wasn’t hurting himself.

Turning into Eskel’s body, Geralt pressing his chest against Eskel’s broad back and wrapping his arms around his waist. Something in his chest eased when Eskel rested his arms over Geralt’s, warm and strong. “Hey handsome,” Geralt mumbled, rubbing his cheek against the space between Eskel’s shoulder blades. 

It was the wrong thing to say. Eskel tensed before the words had even finished leaving Geralt’s mouth. “Don’t lie to me,” Eskel snapped. 

Geralt wished he could see Eskel’s face. “I’m not,” Geralt said, hoping Eskel believed him but doubting he would.

“I suppose the dark is the only place I’ll be handsome again,” Eskel replied, tone so caustic it could blister.

“No,” he countered, “you’ll always be handsome. I’ll always find you attractive, fuck, I would even if the scars covered both sides of your face.”

Eskel’s breaths came quick and sharp for a few minutes before they evened out again, not asleep, but thankfully calm. Geralt pressed a kiss to the meat of Eskel’s shoulder and whispered, “I love you, so much.” 

He tried to ignore how much it hurt when Eskel didn’t reply.

-oOo-

Geralt stood by the front doors, side by side with Lambert, eyes trained on Eskel and Vesemir as they walked towards them. “Thank you for going with him,” Geralt murmured, so low only Lambert would hear.

When Eskel had announced he was going hunting, Geralt had panicked, honestly scared that he might not come back. It hadn’t taken much to convince Lambert to accompany him, he’d been the one to hear Eskel break down that night in the library. 

“I know a little of what he’s going through,” Lambert shrugged, raising the eyebrow that had been cut through by a griffon a decade earlier, leaving him marked from hairline to cheekbone. 

Eskel and Lambert both had packs laden with supplies, carried both their swords and their crossbows, but worry still curled low in Geralt’s belly, making his palms sweat and heart beat faster. 

“I’ll see you soon,” Geralt murmured, reaching out for Eskel’s hand. Eskel didn’t exactly move his hand away but he didn’t try to take Geralt’s hand in return either.

“Sure,” he grunted, not looking at Geralt. With a frown, Geralt stepped into Eskel’s space, feeling a surge of guilt when Eskel flinched ever so slightly, his eye’s looking somewhere over Geralt’s shoulder. 

“I love you,” he said. 

“You too,” Eskel murmured, half hearted and wavering, still not looking Geralt in the eye. 

Heart in his throat, Geralt moved further into Eskel’s space, going onto his toes a little to press a soft kiss to Eskel’s lips. It was the first kiss they’d shared since the injury. Geralt wasn’t sure he was allowed and Eskel had made no move to make Geralt think it was okay to kiss him freely. He didn’t want to take liberties but Eskel would be gone anywhere from a few days to a week and Geralt couldn’t just let him leave without saying goodbye, without reminding him what he had to return too. 

And he missed kissing Eskel. Gone were the sleepy morning kisses, the playful nips they always exchanged while sparring, the kisses just for the sake of kissing. The sudden loss of intimacy had made a hole in Geralt’s chest that was only getting larger but as Eskel was clearly so uncomfortable with himself, Geralt hadn’t wanted to make it inadvertently worse. 

Still, in that moment he couldn’t help himself.

Eskel’s lips were as soft as ever. Geralt could feel the gap in his top lip but it didn’t bother him, it was just new. Eskel just barely kissed him back, but it was something at least. With one final press of lips, Geralt retreated and watched Lambert and Eskel walk through Kaer Morhen’s front doors. Eskel didn’t look back.

“He’ll be fine,” Vesemir said, clasping Geralt’s shoulder before walking away. 

Geralt wasn’t a praying man, had never believed in any deity but in that moment he would sell his soul to any god if they could guarantee Vesemir’s words would stay true.

-oOo-

Geralt watched Eskel push his food around his plate, bearly putting any in his mouth. It was delicious food too, Vesemir had marinated and fried some of the venison steaks that had been cut from the deer Lambert had shot on their hunt. Paired with some winter vegetables from the greenhouse it was a hearty meal, but it could have been gruel for all the attention Eskel was paying it.

“We could go fishing tomorrow, if you fancied?” Geralt suggested. “Then I could make baked trout for dinner.”

“No,” Eskel murmured, not looking away from his plate.

Geralt stared at him, dumbstruck. It was Eskel’s favourite, he’d never said no to Geralt making baked trout, or spending a day fishing with him. For some reason this denial hurt more than anything Eskel had done or not done since his face had been scarred. 

A tide of rage accompanied the pain Eskel’s rejection brought on. Not wanting to do any damage, widening the rift that already seemed to be growing between them, Geralt threw down his knife and fork and stormed out of the Grand Hall. 

Eskel didn’t follow, or even call out to him.

-oOo-

Geralt had only popped into their bedroom to put on warmer socks. But upon entering he found Eskel sitting on the end of the bed. The line of his shoulder so tense they were almost around his ears.

“Hey,” Geralt smiled, coming to a halt just in front of him. 

When Eskel looked up his eyes were hard as flint, jaw tight. “Do you even want me anymore?” he spat.

Geralt took a step back, shocked, brows tugging into a frown. “Of course I do.”

“You’ve not exactly been acting like it.”

“I didn’t think you wanted me to.” Geralt knew he should remain calm, had too, Eskel was going through so much. He tried to cling to his temper, but his hold on it slipped away within one breath and the next

“You could have asked!” Eskel snarled, rising to his feet.

“Everytime I touch you, you tense up or don’t reciprocate!” Geralt half-shouted, taking a step towards Eskel. “Pretty sure I should be the one asking if _you_ still want _me_!” 

“So it’s my fault?!” 

“Well I don’t see how it’s mine!” He threw his arms out in exasperation, everything Geralt had kept bottled up since the injury was flowing free. “I can’t read your mind! And I do ask, multiple times a day if you need anything and everytime I do, you say no! What more do you want from me?! All I’ve tried to do is make you feel better but it’s like you’re not even trying! When was the last time you even bathed? Or ate a proper meal? Can you not just be happy that you’re alive?! That we still get to be together?!” 

Eskel stared at him, emptied eyed, all the anger gone. Geralt felt sick, with himself and at the situation. 

The fight left him and Geralt stumbled back until he was leaning against the dresser. “Do you even care?” Geralt asked, voice barely above a whisper. 

No answer came. Eskel took a breath as if he was going to say something but instead he turned on his heel and left, quick marching out of the room, jaw set.

“Eskel!” Geralt called, pushing himself off the dresser and following him out the door, he was already halfway down the hallway. “Eskel! _Kelly!_ ”

Eskel didn’t stop or look back and Geralt watched him go.

-oOo-

Geralt found Eskel later, when he was sure he could keep his temper in check, sitting in the library staring at nothing. He wasn’t reading a book, hadn’t lit a fire. Eskel was just sitting. It didn’t even look like he was thinking about anything. His face was slack, his eyes were empty.

Witchers weren’t supposed to feel fear, or so it went. They did, of course they did, they just lacked the instinct to run away. Looking at Eskel, Geralt felt fear, it wrapped around his heart, sinister and consuming. 

Even as Geralt crossed the room, Eskel didn’t acknowledge him. He sank down between Eskel’s knees and stared up at his lover of decades, pressing his palms to the tops of Eskel’s legs. Even in that position, Eskel didn’t acknowledge him. 

“I’m sorry,” Geralt said. “I didn’t mean to go off like that.”

“It’s okay,” Eskel murmured, blinking a few times before finally looking down at Geralt. 

“No it’s not. You’re having a hard enough time as it is, you don’t need me adding to that.”

For the first time in too long, Eskel’s hand covered Geralt’s own, warmth bloomed in Geralt’s chest as he entwined their fingers together. “It’s fine. I forgive you.” But the words didn’t ease anything in Geralt’s stomach. “Sit with me?” 

“Of course. Can I hold you?” he asked. Eskel had been right earlier, Geralt did ask if he needed anything, but he never asked anything specific, and he wanted to change that if it would make a difference.

Eskel thought about it for a moment, giving it some serious consideration before saying, “That would be nice.” 

With a modicum of difficulty, Geralt laid back on the couch, maneuvering Eskel as he did so until he was laid on Geralt’s chest, solid but worryingly lighter than he had been a few months ago. The couch wasn’t really built for two fully grown witchers but Geralt certainly wasn’t going to complain. He stroked a hand through Eskel’s hair, it was longer than Geralt had seen it in years, the other he slipped underneath the hem of Eskel’s shirt, pressing his palm to the warm skin of his back. 

They laid there in silence for a long time. The library went dark around them. Geralt wasn’t sure what compelled Eskel to speak, the darkness perhaps, or the way Eskel had hidden his face in Geralt’s neck. Whatever it was, Geralt was thankful for it. 

“I just,” Eskel whispered, “don’t feel like me anymore. I know I should be happy that I’m alive and I want to, but I just feel...nothing. I don’t care. That’s the problem. I don’t care about anything. I want to but there’s just nothing inside of me and the few times I do _feel_ something, I just feel angry.” 

“I want to help but I don’t know what to suggest,” Geralt said, feeling impotent in the face of what was hurting Eskel. This wasn’t something he could fight with a sword and a few bombs.

“It’s just nice to admit it,” Eskel sighed. “I don’t want to feel like this forever but I don’t know what to do to not feel like this.” 

“Maybe Vesemir could help? You can’t be the first of us to feel this way.” 

“Yeah.” There was a pause, then, “If I do tell him will you sit with me while I do?”

“Of course. Of course I will. Anything you need.” Geralt was proud of the way he kept his voice steady.

“You know,” Eskel said, fingers clutching Geralt’s shirt just a little tighter as he pressed his face even further into Geralt’s neck. “If you don’t want to deal with this, with me, it’s okay. I won’t be mad if you don’t want to be with me anymor-”

“No. Eskel, no,” he growled, breaths coming faster as he heart began to pound in his chest. “Wherever this is coming from- I don’t want to be without you. You make it worth being a witcher. Unless- Unless you don’t want to be with me?”

“I think you’re the only reason I’m still alive right now.” The honesty was refreshingly frank even if the words made Geralt’s palms sweat. “So I’ll stick with you if that’s okay.”

“More than okay,” Geralt breathed, pressing his nose to Eskel’s hair. He really needed to wash it but that was a task to accomplish another day. “Can I kiss you?”

“Whenever you want,” Eskel sighed, lifting his face from its hiding spot. 

Geralt gazed into Eskel’s eyes, the moonlight allowing him to see fear and trepidation filling them, better than emptiness at least. Eskel was being so vulnerable, Geralt couldn’t help but feel awe at his bravery. Gently holding Eskel’s chin, Geralt kissed him, soft and tender, trying to wrap up all of the love he felt for Eskel and pass it to him through the one action. 

For the first time in weeks, Eskel kissed him back, properly. The press of the damaged side of his mouth was different, not as strong as the other side but no less thrilling then their first kiss had been, all those years ago. It was like a breath of fresh air. A corner hadn’t been turned yet but Geralt hoped they’d at least taken a step closer to that corner, however small. 

When Geralt pulled away it was only far enough to kiss the scars that now marred Eskel’s face. Eskel gasped and then held himself very still while Geralt worked his way up each of the lines. After pressing one more soft kiss to Eskel’s lips, Geralt asked, “Was that okay?”

“I love you,” Eskel whispered, voice unsteady, eyes shining to bright. The words were a balm to Geralt’s fears. 

“I love you too,” Geralt replied, smiling. Eskel’s smile wasn’t the full and blinding thing it used to be, it was just an upward curl of the unmarred side of his mouth but the sight of it left Geralt breathless.

-oOo-

Geralt made up a bath for Eskel in front of the kitchen fire. While the water heated he cut up sprigs of mint for tea. By the time everything was ready the kitchen was quite cosy, the warmth, scents and sound of snow hitting the window combined to make Geralt very glad he was inside.

He exited the kitchen to briefly stick his head into the Grand Hall. “Eskel!” he called, cutting through Eskel and Vesemir’s murmured conversation. 

They’d told their old teacher, Geralt occasionally filling in gaps when Eskel couldn’t remember what happened or couldn’t continue speaking, and between them they’d manage to lay out everything that Eskel was going through. Geralt had been right, it was not the first time one of their brethren had suffered from such an affliction. They were just discussing the finer points of it’s management when Geralt had slipped off to make Eskel the bath. 

When Eskel joined him in the kitchen, Geralt had a mug of tea in hand, ready for him. He half smiled at the sight, making Geralt’s knees feel weak and his heart skip a beat, as if he were a teen rather than pushing a century.

“Will you be joining me?” Eskel asked, taking his mug from Geralt blowing on it’s steaming surface. 

“I was rather hoping you’d let me bathe you. If that’s alright?” he asked, having a sip of his own tea.

Eskel nodded, the corner of his mouth curling up again when Geralt smiled at him. Taking the cup from Eskel’s hand, he placed them both down beside the bath before stepping into Eskel’s space. Geralt kissed him, first on the lips, then against each of the scar lines, finishing with another kiss on the lips. It was a routine that Geralt had been more than happy to adopt. 

He stripped Eskel out of his shirt, letting his hands run over Eskel’s skin, fingers carding through the hair on his chest and back. It wasn’t sexual, and he didn’t want it to be, Geralt just wanted to touch, to affirm that they were both still alive, still with each other. Eskel watched him through half lidded eyes, breathing deep and even through his nose. 

Once Geralt had touched his fill he dropped down to his knees and removed Eskel’s boots, lifting each leg in turn with a hand to the back of his knee. As he pulled off Eskel’s socks he made a mental note to darn the holes later that evening. 

He’d unlaced Eskel’s trousers many different ways over the years, desperately slow, desperately fast, with great precision, with fumbling fingers, even once or twice with his teeth. But unlacing them there in the kitchen, Geralt did so with nothing more than love and care in mind. 

Eskel let out an appreciative groan as he settled into the hot water, eyes falling shut, head resting back against the rim of the tub. Geralt sat down next to it, facing Eskel. He picked up his tea and took a sip before asking, “How are you feeling now? After talking to Vesemir?”

“I don’t really know, lots of things,” Eskel shrugged, opening his eyes. “Glad that I won’t feel like this forever. Gutted that it might never go away entirely. Annoyed it’s not something I can just stab with a sword and be done with. Can I have my tea, please?” 

Geralt passed him the cup and Eskel had a few mouthfuls, humming appreciatively at the taste. “I was thinking,” Geralt said, letting the tips of his fingers trail across the surface of the water.

“Don’t strain yourself,” Eskel snorted. 

The old, overused joke was so good to hear that Geralt almost lost his train of thought. “I was thinking,” Geralt repeated, “that in the spring we could set off on the Path together, just until you’re recovered. Not because I think you suddenly can’t do your job,” he hastened to add as a dark look crossed Eskel’s face, “so that I don’t get myself killed because I can’t stop worrying about you.” 

“Well, when you put it like that,” Eskel said, rubbing at his chin. Shaving his face was the one thing Eskel had managed to keep up with. A few days after he’d woken up Geralt had seen him despair at the patchy way the hair grew in around the scars and he’d barely seen Eskel with so much as a five o’clock shadow since. “It’ll be nice, you can bake me trout whenever I want it.” 

“Not with that attitude,” Geralt smirked, rolling his eyes.

“Please,” Eskel winked.

“Hmm, better.” 

By the time they had finished their tea and Eskel sat forward in the tub to allow Geralt room to wash his hair, Geralt’s heart felt light. He spent extra time massaging Eskel’s scalp, quite enjoying the extra length on his hair. Geralt had planned to offer to cut it, had scissors ready down by the side of the bath, but as he rinsed the soap from Eskel’s locks he decided not to offer to cut it after all.

-oOo-

Geralt knew Eskel had agreed to keep a diary, it had been one of Vesemir’s suggestions. However he didn’t _know_ for sure whether Eskel had been using the notebook Lambert had found him. Not for sure, anyway. Not until he looked through the open library door to see Eskel sitting in a patch of weak winter sunlight, the diary balanced on his thighs while he scratched away in it with a pencil. The sight, the sound, filled Geralt’s chest with warmth, easing yet another knot of worry within him.

He stood in the doorway and just watched for a while, enjoying the way the sunlight glinted off Eskel’s back hair, the flex of his large fingers around the small pencil, the way the tip of Eskel’s tongue peaked out as he wrote. Geralt wasn’t sure if Eskel knew whether he was there or not, he appeared deep in concentration but it took more than that to sneak up on a witcher. 

Vesemir was expecting him in the courtyard. They’d caught a boar on their last hunt and he was to help skin, gut and butcher it, but, Geralt decided, Vesemir could wait a moment more. 

Striding into the room and not trying to be quiet about it, he advanced on Eskel. Just as Gearlt’s reached him, Eskel looked up. Cupping Eskel’s cheeks with firm hands, Geralt leaned down and captured Eskel’s lips in a hard kiss, heart beating wildly as their lips moved together in a dance that never failed to excite him. A kiss to each scar line, one final kiss to Eskel’s lips and Geralt strode back out of the room as if nothing had happened, chest heaving. 

“What was that for?” Eskel called after him, breathes coming just as quickly as Geralt’s. 

“I felt like it,” Geralt shouted back, lips pulled up in a satisfied smirk.

-oOo-

It was late morning. Geralt had left Eskel in bed just after dawn, still asleep, thinking he’d join them for breakfast once he’d woken but Eskel had never appeared. Wanting to check he was alright, Geralt made his way back to their room, letting himself in quietly in case Eskel was still sleeping.

He wasn’t. 

Eskel was awake and staring blankly up at the ceiling. Geralt’s heart leapt to his throat as he forced himself to remember what Vesemir had told them. This wasn’t a back step, Eskel would just have good days and bad days for a long time to come, but that it was okay and part of the healing process. 

“I think I’m just going to stay in bed today,” Eskel said, eyes still on the ceiling.

“That’s okay. Would you like me to bring you something to eat?” 

“In a bit. Could you hold me please?”

“Of course,” Geralt breathed, kicking off his boots as he crossed to the bed. After stripping down to his smalls, Geralt climbed under the covers and pulled Eske into his arms.

-oOo-

Early dawn light filtered in through the window. Geralt woke with a sigh, turning towards Eskel only to find him already reaching out for him in return. Their lips came together and Geralt sighed again, a fire lighting in his belly as he felt Eskel’s thigh slip between his legs, warm and thick. He caressed his hands across the vast plains of Eskel’s back, the skin soft under his palms.

Eskel’s tongue pressed to the seam of his lips and he opened them without any hesitation, allowing his lover to slip his tongue into his mouth, enjoying the languid thrust of it that came with every kiss. Geralt sucked on it gently, then nipped at Eskel’s lower lip. They clutched at each other, embracing each other’s bodies as they moved together under the covers, warm and still half asleep, seeking the touch of each other’s skin.

Geralt left Eskel’s lips behind, kissing across his cheek to run the tip of his tongue around the shell of Eskel’s ear before sucking the lobe into his mouth. Eskel panted hotly into Geralt’s own ear, so sensitive there the hands on Geralt’s back stopped moving. Smiling, Geralt continued to suck, lick and nip at Eskel’s ear until he was whining, only then did he kiss his way down to Eskel’s neck. Spending time at all of the most sensitive spots with lips, teeth and tongue, Geralt didn’t stop until Eskel was a writhing mess. 

Slotting their lips back together, Geralt trailed a hand down Eskel’s chest, fingers creeping over his soft stomach, smirking at the way the muscles tensed under his touch, powerful and strong. He kept going lower until his hand cupped Eskel’s cock, still soft against his palm.

“I’m sorry,” Eskel whispered, trying to turn away. 

“It’s okay,” Geralt reassured, pressing a hard kiss to his lips. “I know it’s not because you’re sick of me or anything.”

“Everytime it happens, I feel like I’m letting you down.” It didn’t happen all the time, but it still seemed to be a random toss of the coin as to whether Eskel could grow and keep an erection, no matter how aroused he felt. Geralt didn’t think less of Eskel for it, what he hated was how lacking it made Eskel feel, and the way it added fuel to the fire on his bad days.

“You’re not,” he pressed their foreheads together, moving his hand to the side to gently brush his thumb up and down the soft length of Eskel’s cock. “It’s just part of what you’re going through right now, it won’t last forever.”

“It might,” Eskel grunted. 

“Well if it does then so be it. Vesemir said it’s all about the management. We could go to Novigrad in the spring, see if the whores have any helpful suggestions.”

“I’ll definitely never get it up if you mention Vesemir in bed,” he snorted, rolling onto his back and crossing his arms over his chest, eyebrows tugging together into a frown, one moreso than the other. There had definitely been some progress though, considering he hadn’t been able to move his brow at all. Geralt didn’t tell him to relax, knowing it would only wind Eskel up more. Instead, he went up onto his elbow, pressing his body against Eskel’s side and trying not to make his own erection too obvious, leaned down and kissed it. 

“Want me to suck you for a bit, see if that helps?” Geralt asked.

“Yeah, might as well,” Eskel sighed. 

Straddling Eskel’s waist, Geralt rested his forearms on either side of Eskel’s head, leaned down and kissed him soundly on the lips. He knew he could just go straight to giving head but making Eskel relax a little first would go a long way to helping him get hard and kissing Eskel was no hardship, he _still_ loved kissing Eskel and always would. It was something Geralt could happily do all day. The way Eskel moved his lips with such tender grace against Geralt’s, there could be no better kisser. Eskel was not the only person Geralt had kissed, not by a mile, but he had been his first and he would be like last. So Geralt gladly kissed Eskel until he’d uncrossed his arms in favour of pressing his hands onto Geralt’s thighs, the frown completely gone, his shoulders relaxed. 

Only then did Geralt begin kissing down the length of Eskel’s body, stopping to suck on his nipples just the way Eskel liked, soft and teasing. Eskel started to pant again, a hand threading into Geralt’s hair, not pushing, just holding, while the other gripped the sheets. Geralt grinned as he continued his journey, stopping again to suckle on the newfound softness around Eskel’s bellybutton, rubbing his stubble to it, making Eskel squirm before kissing the area again in forgiveness. 

At last, he reached Eskel’s groin, pushing his nose into the curls and taking deep breaths, reveling in the musky, concentrated scent of them. Eskel, long used to his eccentricities merely huffed a laugh above him. Geralt shot him a grin, he knew the truth, that Eskel loved how much Geralt loved his scent, no matter how much he pretended otherwise. 

Once he’d had his fill, Geralt finally took Eskel’s cock into his mouth. It was still soft, but he didn’t mind. Geralt loved the way he could fit all of it into his mouth without straining, that he could lay between Eskel’s legs for hours quite happily, never tiring. It was something Geralt had only learnt he liked as he and Eskel eased back into the sexual side of their relationship, but it had been a revelation. 

Eskel’s erection did begin to slowly fill, reaching semi erect due to Geralt’s patient assistance. He began to lightly play with Eskel’s balls, hoping that the extra stimulation would help, however it made no difference. After a while Eskel’s cock began to flag, until it once again sat soft in Geralt’s mouth, but he didn’t pause, still sucking. Only when Eskel gently pulled at his hair did Geralt let it fall from his lips. 

“I think I want to stop now. Sorry,” Eskel groaned.

“Nothing to apologise for, Kelly,” Geralt murmured, moving back up Eskel’s body to kiss him. “Thank you for letting me try.” 

“It’s so frustrating,” he whispered, despondent. 

“I can't even begin to imagine.” Because he couldn’t, he wasn’t going to pretend to know what Eskel was going through. Instead, Geralt plastered himself to Eskel’s chest, tangling their legs together, brushing his nose along Eskel’s jaw. 

“Do you want me to…?” 

“Nah, it’s fine.” Geralt was still hard, but it always felt utterly tactless to immediately allow Eskel to pleasure him when Eskel himself couldn’t find gratification. “We can try again later.”

“Yeah, alright,” Eskel sighed. Corner of his mouth curled up as he gazed down at Geralt. “You’re like a dog to a bone.” 

“Well I am a wolf,” he smirked, leaning back to leer down at Eskel, “and I do love one bone in particular.”

“That was fucking abysmal,” he complained, scrunching up his face. But a laugh fell from Eskel’s lips, light and reasonably carefree, so Geralt couldn’t bring himself to care how horrendous the line had been. 

“You love it,” Geralt teased, tweaking Eskel’s nose.

“For some unknown reason.” Eskel rolled his eyes and Geralt took the advantage, kissing Eskel softly. Eskel huffed against his lips but raised his hands to cup Geralt’s cheek and neck, kissing back. “I love you,” Eskel whispered.

The words sent a shiver down Geralt’s spine. “I love you too.”

“Thank you for putting up with me through all of this.”

“We’re a team, Eskel, always have been, always will be. There’s no _putting up with_ anything. The shit we’ve been through would make normal people have a breakdown, we can get through this too, even if that means finding a new normal.” 

“Dandelion’s been rubbing off on you I see,” Eskel snorted but he was smiling again, relaxed, eyes filled with gratitude. 

“Only you get to rub off on me,” Geralt winked. Eskel laughed and pushed Geralt off not only his chest but the bed entirely. “Hey!”

“Absolutely atrocious,” he heard Eskel complain, followed by the sounds of him getting out of bed. 

Geralt sat up and watched Eskel quickly and efficiently pull on clothes. Dressed, he headed for the door, looking back over his shoulder and down at Geralt, still sitting on the floor. “I’m going fishing, you coming or what?” 

“Absolutely!” Geralt exclaimed. Throwing on his own clothes, Geralt followed Eskel out of their room, grinning all the while.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading, I hope you enjoyed and that it wasn't too much for anyone <3 
> 
> [My Tumblr!](https://lutes-and-dandelions.tumblr.com/)


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